Who Taught You How to Dance?
by Scarlett Rogue
Summary: It's Christmas, and Sherlock wants to dance in front of the fire with John. Only problem is, John can't dance. Sherlock is more than willing to teach him, and ignore the commentary from their audience. Johnlock, side order of Mystrade. Post-Reich adorableness.


Summary: It's Christmas, and Sherlock wants to dance in front of the fire with John. Only problem is, John can't dance. Sherlock is more than willing to teach him, and ignore the commentary from their audience. Johnlock, side order of Mystrade.

Rated: T

Inspired by the scene from the second Sherlock Holmes movie when Sherlock asks John who taught him to dance, and he responds with "You did". Enjoy!

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"Dance with me, Gregory."

"I don't dance, My!"

"Fine, have it your way. Dearest Molly, may I have this dance?"

The room was lit up with Christmas lights and the bright blaze of the fire, which John and Sherlock usually only lit once a year. Christmas was a special time for the boys; it was the one day every year when Sherlock wasn't allowed to deduce anything about anyone. In their first year living together he'd ignored this rule and very nearly single-handedly ruined the entire night, but being Sherlock Holmes' boyfriend did have its advantages. For example, Sherlock was to behave himself or he would be sleeping on the front step for a week.

It was made even more special when Sherlock returned to them a few months back. John didn't have to warn him to behave this year. Sherlock was too happy to be back with the only people that his brilliant mind could tolerate. He spent most of the night switching between playing the violin and making bets with Molly about who would be completely smashed first.

Molly was betting on Lestrade and Sherlock on Mrs. Hudson. As amused as that made John, he didn't dare bet against the genius.

"We should dance, too."

Sherlock appeared behind John's chair, his hands resting on his lover's shoulders gently, as they watched Molly and Mycroft twirl around the small room. Mycroft was a great dancer, surprisingly light on his feet for a man of his stature, and Molly was more than capable of keeping up.

"That's hilarious," John smiled and put one of his hands over Sherlock's.

"I believe I missed the punchline." Sherlock tugged on his hand. John pulled back and stared up at him curiously.

"Are you mad? I don't dance."

"Don't, or can't?" Sherlock smirked as John blushed and folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine, _can't_. With no desire to learn any time soon." Sherlock smiled to himself but said nothing more on the subject.

John didn't envy Lestrade right now. The Detective had planted his feet firmly on the ground so that Mycroft couldn't pull him along for the next dance. Instead, he held a glass of champagne out to Mycroft. The man pursed his lips for a few seconds before accepting the glass and downing it quickly. _Perhaps Sherlock was_ wrong, John thought._ Perhaps Mycroft would be the first one drunk..._

At least Sherlock wasn't trying to convince him to dance anymore.

"What are you doing?" John was swept out of his seat unexpectedly and flew into Sherlock's arms. The younger man smiled down at him and pulled him along to the middle of the room.

"No boyfriend of mine will be unable to dance."

"Impressive," John tried to pull away.

"What's impressive?"

"That fact that, after all you've been through, dancing is the thing that ends up turning you in to a nutter." Sherlock laughed and pulled John flush against his chest.

"Is it mad for me to want to hold my boyfriend close? To feel his body pressed against my own? To feel his heartbeat against my chest and his breath tickle my neck?"

John had to remind himself to keep breathing. Sherlock smirked as if he knew he'd won, and he placed one hand on John's waist while the other pulled their hands up in the proper form.

"Hey, why do you get to be the dominate partner?"

"Because I am," Sherlock said playfully. "Also, I'm taller."

"But-"

"Shhh." Sherlock tilted his head to his laptop, where he'd opened up iTunes to his favorite classical compositions. The next piece was familiar to John, mainly because Sherlock spent so much time playing it on the violin. Sherlock started counting the steps for John, guiding his feet across the floor. After a few missteps, one of which resulted in John landing hard on Sherlock's foot, they were waltzing across the floor effortlessly. John saw Mrs. Hudson wink at him and he returned her bright smile, surprised that he was actually enjoying himself.

The music changed mid-dance to something softer, more romantic, with an internal pulse but little in the way of beat.

"What are the steps?" John asked. He couldn't get a sense of beat and it was throwing his feet off. Sherlock smiled and brought their bodies right up against each other. He wrapped his arms securely around John's body and John let his head fall to Sherlock's shoulder.

"This," Sherlock breathed against John's hair.

They swayed throughout the duration of the piece, barely inching their way from that one spot. No one else seemed to matter. Not the neighbors in the building next door having seemingly incredible Christmas sex, or the happy drunks singing in the streets; not even the people around them who had taken to watching and whispering.

"I always knew they'd be perfect for each other," Mrs. Hudson said proudly. Molly was digging through her purse for her camera, and Lestrade was watching the couple with a soft smile on his face, one marred only by Mycroft's recurring whining of "Why won't you dance with me like John dances with Sherlock?"

And in the end, John was right. Lestrade had to take Mycroft home earlier than planned when Mycroft started drunkenly harassing John about the importance of cake.

All in all, it was a beautiful night.

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I know it's nowhere near Christmas time, but this just had to be written. Hope you enjoyed, and please review! And, as always, I do take requests :D


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